Happy Ever After

by Patricia Scanlan

  ‘She’s a dote,’ exclaimed Connie, gazing into the foal’s chocolate-brown eyes, which stared back at them both, so innocent and friendly. The mother, a fine-boned brown mare called Swift, neighed proudly as she chomped on the carrot Drew had just fed her.

  ‘So you’re pleased then?’ He smiled at the elderly lady, who beamed back up at him and patted him on the shoulder. ‘You did well, Drew. They’re both so healthy, and a credit to you.’

  ‘Look at her movement and her outline and the way she carries herself. She’ll be a fast one, and excellent for dressage, I’d say – she loves the limelight already,’ he observed.

  ‘I think I agree with you there – she knows she’s a star.’ Mrs M. was in complete accord and obviously knew a lot about horses from the discussions she’d been having with Drew. ‘The girls will be as pleased as Punch when they see her; they’re back from Florida next week,’ she said, talking of her granddaughters, who were away on holidays. ‘Make sure they do plenty of mucking out; they’re getting too used to the good life,’ she instructed, sitting down on the fold-up chair Connie had opened up for her. ‘Now, go show Connie around, seeing as it’s her first time here, and let me talk to my darlings.’ She held another apple out to the foal, who whinnied excitedly.

  ‘We’d better do as we’re told,’ Drew laughed, as he led the way back to the yard, where a farrier was shoeing a horse and a stable girl was grooming a big, black gelding.

  ‘Drew, could I ask a favour?’ Connie said slowly.

  ‘Sure. If I can do it for you I will,’ he said agreeably.

  ‘You know my ex’s daughter that I was telling you about?’

  ‘The one with the eating problem?’ He nodded. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘She was over for supper last night, which she got rid of halfway through the meal. Anyway, I was telling her about Frisky. Could I bring her to have a look at her some afternoon next week? I won’t bother you or get in the way,’ she assured him.

  ‘You won’t bother me, and you won’t get in my way, and you can bring the world and his mother to visit Frisky,’ he said, smiling at her, his eyes full of warmth.

  ‘It might take her mind off things and give her an interest. She’s going down a very hard road. I’ve nursed kids like her, it’s the pits.’ A lump came into her throat and tears brimmed unexpectedly in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t get upset, Connie,’ said Drew hastily. ‘Come into my horse’s stall, for a bit of privacy.’ He opened a half-door, where a massive brown horse whinnied softly in welcome. ‘Hello, boy, good boy,’ he murmured, patting his horse’s rump as Connie rooted for a tissue in her bag.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be – why wouldn’t you cry at something like that?’ he said kindly.

  ‘Oh, Drew, her parents have no idea what’s in store for her. I could smack them. Can they not see what’s going on under their noses?’ she said angrily, bursting into fresh tears. She’d spent the night tossing and turning, worrying about Melissa.

  ‘Shush, don’t be upsetting yourself,’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she apologized, sniffling. ‘It’s just she’s a nice kid, and there’s something lost and forlorn about her sometimes.’

  ‘I know, but she’s lucky to have you and Debbie. Don’t forget that,’ he reminded her as she blew her nose. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, just a bit mortified,’ she admitted, managing a wobbly grin.

  ‘Don’t be daft, didn’t I unburden myself yesterday?’ he said wryly.

  ‘So there’s a pair of us in it.’ She wiped her eyes.

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, giving her a quick, unexpected hug.

  She rested her head against his chest for the briefest moment as his arms tightened around her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They stepped back and smiled at each other.

  ‘Do you like my horse?’ he asked. ‘This is Marino. Marino, this is Connie. Do you ride, Connie?’

  ‘Tragically, neither men nor horses for quite a while,’ she murmured, and he guffawed.

  ‘Did you ever horse-ride?’ he amended, laughing again.

  ‘When I was very young. I wouldn’t inflict myself on a poor horse now – tragically, also, as you can see, I’m no longer a twig.’

  ‘You’re a fine hoult of a woman, as they say in the country.’ He grinned at her.

  ‘I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not,’ she retorted, ‘so I won’t comment.’

  ‘It was a compliment. I’m just out of practice and, if you’d like it some time, I’ve a lovely placid mare called Fuchsia who’d be perfect for you until you get more adventurous,’ Drew said firmly.

  ‘They’re very big,’ she demurred, looking up at Marino, who was standing gazing at her as Drew began stroking his neck.

  ‘Not at all, no bother to you. I’ll look after you,’ he promised. ‘And by all means bring your ex’s daughter any time you want, Connie. You’ll always be welcome here,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks, Drew. I feel very welcome.’

  ‘Good,’ he said succinctly, leading Marino out into the yard. ‘I’m going to bring this fellow over to the paddock. Mrs M. always likes to see him. Come on, I’ll show you how to lead him so we can start you getting used to horses at least,’ he teased, and she laughed.

  Mrs Mansfield shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun and saw Connie laughing with Drew over in the yard. A smile flitted across her fine features. ‘Excellent,’ she murmured to Swift. ‘Excellent. Just what he needs.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Hi, Connie, you look terrific. The holiday did you good.’ Barry leaned over and gave his ex-wife a kiss on the cheek, as his eyes roved appreciatively over her, noting the golden glow of her skin and her bright, clear eyes.

  ‘Thanks, Barry, and thanks for seeing me,’ Connie said quietly. She was sitting outside a small seafront café in Bray, to where she’d taken the Dart to meet her ex-husband.

  ‘So are we on a date?’ he flirted, delighted with this unexpected meeting. She’d been very mysterious on the phone, just saying she needed to see him to discuss something.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Barry,’ she said crossly, waving at a waiter to serve them. She had fierce PMT and wasn’t in the humour for his jocularity.

  ‘Just joking – lighten up, Connie, I get enough gloom and grief at home,’ he growled.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologized. ‘And, Barry, I’m sorry also to have to tell you there’s more of that in store for you. Debbie and I are both convinced that Melissa is suffering from an eating disorder. Debbie caught her chewing and spitting her Chinese the night they came down to see Miss Hope, and the evening before yesterday, when she had supper with me, she went into the loo halfway through the meal and made herself sick. You’ve got to get her seen to,’ Connie said bluntly.

  The colour drained from Barry’s face. ‘Ah no, you couldn’t be right. She eats at home fine,’ he protested.

  ‘Come on, Barry, when do you ever eat meals together? I’m not mistaken; I saw the puke spatters around the rim of the loo. And look how much weight she’s lost.’

  ‘Surely that’s puppy fat falling off. Remember Debbie used to be a bit plump in her teens?’ he argued, desperate not to hear what she was saying.

  ‘Barry, listen to me. Melissa’s in trouble, and you and Aimee need to put aside your differences and get her taken care of before this gets any worse. I’m telling you, if this takes a hold of her, she could die. Do you understand what I’m saying here? If this is allowed to go untreated, and Melissa goes the whole hog with it, she will starve herself, her periods will stop and her fertility will be affected. She could develop osteoporosis and damage her heart, before her body starts eating itself. Lack of potassium can bring on a heart attack. Look what happened to Karen Carpenter. Not even force-feeding will save her. In hospital, those girls encourage each other to starve themselves. When one of them dies, they applaud her for it, wishing it was them. Barry, it’s horrific, and you’ve go
t to do something about it.’

  ‘Jesus, Connie, stop – you’re frightening me,’ he protested.

  ‘I want to frighten you, Barry. This is your daughter’s life we’re talking about. And you cannot let on that I spoke to you, or say anything about Debbie knowing what she was doing. She is not to know that we alerted you, under any circumstances. She needs someone to confide in at her own pace, and Debbie is very anxious to be there for her.’

  ‘God Almighty, Connie, I . . . I . . . don’t know what to say . . . or do.’ He was ashen.

  ‘Look, I’ll suss it out and get some names for you, but just be aware of what’s going on, will you?’ she said sympathetically. ‘I know St Vincent’s have a unit, and there’s one in St Pat’s; I’ll get you the relevant contact numbers. You need to talk to your GP, too. I’m really sorry to have to be telling you all of this, Barry, but it’s imperative you act now. I’ll call you tomorrow when I have some information for you.’

  Barry put his head in his hands.

  ‘Look, she’ll have plenty of support, we’re all behind her,’ Connie said gently. ‘It’s better to deal with it now, before it becomes too severe.’

  ‘This is a hard burden, Connie,’ he groaned. ‘I don’t know if I can carry it. Aimee wants a divorce. I don’t know what’s to become of us. I need you more than I’ve ever needed you.’

  ‘Well, this time you have to carry your burdens, Barry. You can’t run away from Melissa the way you ran away from Debbie,’ she said sharply. ‘And I’ll help you all I can, but I have my own life to lead, please don’t forget that.’

  ‘I won’t – but promise me you’ll be there for us.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she sighed. ‘Just start dealing with Melissa; the divorce can wait until she’s sorted. I’m sure Aimee will see that when you tell her what’s going on with your daughter.’

  ‘All Aimee can see is me me me,’ he said bitterly. ‘How do I deal with that?’

  ‘Barry, I’m not a marriage counsellor,’ she said exasperatedly. ‘My advice to you is to go home and tell her what I told you and take it from there.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ he griped.

  ‘Look, this is not all about you or Aimee, this is about Melissa.’ Connie was losing patience fast. ‘And, by the way, she knows about you and Aimee discussing divorce. She overheard you having a row, so bear that in mind as well.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he exclaimed. Could this evening get any worse, he wondered, sick to his stomach. ‘Who did she tell about the row?’ he muttered.

  ‘Debbie. But at least she felt she could tell her. That could send her into a downward spiral too,’ Connie warned. ‘You might need to talk to her about it, she was very upset, Debbie said.’

  ‘OK, I hear you,’ Barry retorted as the waiter came to take their order.

  ‘Just tea for me, please,’ Connie said.

  ‘Same for me, please, and a scone,’ Barry ordered. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything?’ He looked across the table at her.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said sombrely.

  They sat in silence until their teas came.

  ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you,’ apologized Barry as he poured her tea.

  ‘Forget it, I just want Melissa to be OK,’ Connie said.

  ‘Is that what you think? That I ran out on Debbie?’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Didn’t you?’ She didn’t see why she should let him off the hook.

  ‘I suppose so, if you want to look at it like that.’

  ‘Look, there’s no point in crying over spilt milk, just be there for Melissa, no matter what happens. Not everyone’s lucky enough to be given a second chance, Barry, so take it,’ she urged.

  ‘What’s it like to be perfect?’ he said bitterly.

  ‘I’m far, far from perfect, that’s unfair, Barry,’ she flared, hurt.

  ‘Well, stop judging me,’ he muttered.

  ‘Oh, grow up, Barry. For crying out loud, I’m not friggin’ judging you. Look, I’m going. I know this is hard for you and, believe me, I don’t want to be involved, but I like Melissa very much and she’s the only reason I’m here. I’ll call you tomorrow with the information I get. See you.’ She grabbed her bag and stalked off without a backward glance, furious.

  He didn’t call her back and, if he had, she wouldn’t have gone. She glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she’d catch a Dart to Greystones earlier than she’d planned. She could see the train in the station, and she ran as fast as she could, collapsing in a breathless heap on the seat when she got into the carriage. She wheezed; she needed to get fitter. Walking on the beach was all very well, but she’d have to put in more of an effort and do some aerobics or something.

  She could murder Barry Adams, she thought as the whistle blew and the train rumbled out of the station. Just because she was the bearer of bad news, she was not the baddie. Typical of him to turn it all around to himself, doing his poor-me act. He and Aimee would want to get their respective acts together, or Melissa was going to slip through their fingers.

  She was in a thoroughly grouchy mood when she got into her car in the car park in Greystones a while later. She was driving along past Tesco’s when a familiar jeep beeped at her, and she saw Drew observing her quizzically. She pulled in further up the road, and he parked behind her and got out.

  ‘You look as grumpy as I did the other day,’ he said mildly when she rolled down the window and he leaned on the door with his forearm.

  ‘I just met Barry and told him about Melissa,’ she explained.

  ‘Did it not go well?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a long story,’ she sighed. ‘What are you doing in Tesco’s at this hour of the evening?’

  ‘Ran out of dog food. Nothing for his brekkie. Do you want to come for a drink and tell me the long story?’ he asked diffidently.

  ‘Are you sure you want to hear it?’ She looked up at him, noting the way his black chest hair curled at the V of his shirt just below his throat. She liked chest hair on men. Bryan got his waxed so he’d look like David Beckham, Debbie had told her once. There was no comparison between Bryan and Drew, or Barry and Drew, she thought as he stared down at her. He’d a nice mouth, too, a firm mouth, she thought, with a sudden longing to be kissed and cuddled and comforted.

  ‘I like long stories,’ Drew said solemnly, but his eyes were twinkling.

  ‘I’m not very dressed up,’ she murmured.

  ‘And I am?’ He arched an eyebrow at her, and she laughed. ‘You look fine to me. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘I’ve cold beer in the fridge at home, I got it in for you the other day when you were cutting the grass,’ she said impulsively.

  ‘Perfect. I’ll follow you.’ He straightened up and tapped the roof. ‘Drive carefully.’

  ‘I will,’ she said, happy that the evening wasn’t going to be a total disaster.

  ‘And when did she tell you this?’ Aimee demanded.

  ‘She asked me to meet her in Bray earlier. She didn’t pull any punches either, Aimee. This is serious. I’ve told you what Connie said could happen.’

  ‘Oh, Connie, Connie, Connie. I’m sick of Connie,’ Aimee muttered.

  ‘She’s probably sick of us too,’ he retorted. ‘She told me she’d have some information for us tomorrow. Places and people we can contact.’

  ‘Maybe it’s just a phase Melissa’s going through,’ Aimee said, grasping at straws.

  ‘I don’t think so and, another thing: she heard us arguing and knows we’ve used the “D” word. She’s very upset about it; she told Debbie about it.’

  ‘For God’s sake, do they know all our business?’ Aimee snapped, irately.

  ‘Well, they seem to know more about our daughter than we do, and what does that say about our parenting skills?’ he shot back.

  ‘And you want us to have another child?’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Look, this is getting us nowhere, Aimee. We need to focus on Melissa for the t
ime being. Do you agree?’ He stopped pacing up and down the lounge and stood in front of her.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s scary, though. Kathryn Lawson’s daughter has been in and out of hospital for the last three years, she’s like a walking skeleton. She only weighs six stone.’ Aimee’s face crumpled, and she started to cry.

  Barry sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Look, we’ll deal with it together. We’ll put our own issues on hold and be there for Melissa until we have her sorted. What do you say?’

  ‘OK,’ Aimee sniffled, thinking that this was the worst year of her life, new job notwithstanding.

  ‘And . . . err, Connie suggested we don’t let on she or Debbie knows anything about this or has mentioned anything to us. Connie feels Melissa needs someone she can trust, and she seems to be bonding really well with Debbie,’ he said hesitantly.

  ‘I suppose it makes sense, although I wish they weren’t involved,’ Aimee said sulkily.

  ‘In fairness, I think Connie wishes she wasn’t involved either. She has her own life to lead.’

  ‘Why, what did she say?’ demanded his wife. ‘She doesn’t have to be involved. We can take it from here, tell her, thank you very much.’

  ‘No, no,’ he said hurriedly, thinking Aimee was such a powder keg these days. ‘She was apologizing for being the bearer of bad news and having to lay this at our door, but she felt she had to,’ he pacified.

  ‘Oh . . . I see. I suppose it wasn’t easy to tell someone their daughter has a problem like anorexia,’ Aimee conceded. ‘That’s if it is anorexia.’

  ‘Something’s up, Aimee. She has lost a lot of weight and, looking back, she’s stopped eating treats with me when we go for coffee on Saturday mornings, and she never eats with us here. She’s always saying she’s had something earlier,’ Barry pointed out.

  ‘I never even noticed,’ Aimee muttered, tears starting to fall again. ‘What kind of a mother am I?’

  ‘You’re a good mother,’ he said stoutly. ‘We lost our way for a bit. We’ll get back on track with her.’

  ‘I hope so, Barry. Anorexia and bulimia and all those things are very hard to deal with. I’m scared.’